


Life in Technicolour

by iatethebiscuit



Series: Biscuit's Angstfest [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Artist!Gold, Blind!Gold, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iatethebiscuit/pseuds/iatethebiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumford Gold is a renowned artist. He is also going blind. His only friend is his nurse at the hospital, Belle French.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life in Technicolour

Rumford Gold was going blind.

And he did not need a reminder, thank you very much.

He was getting worse. He’d known that before that bloody doctor told him. Last week he’d been told to get himself a cane. He had obeyed, although his cane didn’t necessarily match the doctor’s description. Rumford was now in possession of a black, wooden cane with an exquisite golden handle. Going blind would not deprive him of his sense of style.

Ever since his diagnosis, going to the hospital had been a pain in the ass. Not only did they keep telling him his eyesight was going faster and faster, but as time went on, they also informed him that it wasn’t safe for him to drive anymore. 

So it was that Rumford found himself walking through the halls of Storybrooke General, cane in one hand, finished canvas in the other, his car keys painfully absent in his pocket. The way to the nurses’ station was imprinted in his memory, which was a good thing since reading the signs telling patients where to go wasn’t in the cards for him anymore. 

Five months ago, he had met the most beautiful woman in the world. It was a good thing she was so gorgeous, too, because she was the only thing he could paint of late. He no longer created his famous landscapes, architectural works or still-lives. Whenever he set out to paint it would be her lips smiling at him, her eyes twinkling in the evening light. When he’d first met her he could still see fairly well, and he had committed the sight of her to memory. Now, he could no longer distinguish the exact shape of her nose, or the way her hair was curled into a loose bun. He could still see the intense blue of her eyes when she was close enough, and the teal of her uniform, so he told himself it didn’t matter. As long as he chose the right colours, he trusted his hands to do the rest. He’d just finished another painting of her with a patient, and was dying to give it to her.

Belle was generally all over the place. Running to help someone open the door here, comforting family members there, and always with a gentle, encouraging smile. It was impossible to feel sad for long in her presence. Maybe that was why she was such a good nurse. She was always there when he asked for her, and her squeals of delight at his paintings were what kept him going on the difficult days. And there had been plenty of them.

The nurses’ station was always a buzz of activity, and today was no exception. People were always running around, and there was always a line. As per usual, he didn’t bother with it. He walked up to the desk, ignoring the dirty looks some of the other patients must be giving him. A cheerful blonde was chewing on an apple, writing pensively on what looked to be a chart. She looked up and smiled.

“Good morning, mr. Gold! Isn’t it a beautiful day?” She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing the most she’d get was a grunt, and that was on a good day. “Let me finish this chart and I’ll page Belle for you.”

He nodded a thank you, moving to take a seat in the crowded waiting area. Everyone knew of his and Belle’s friendship, but he didn’t mind. That only made things easier for him. Everyone knew he wouldn’t leave before seeing her. As he sat down in the most isolated seat he could find, he spotted a mass of bright red hair. There was only one nurse that frequently wore her hair loose, despite being chastised by other nurses and doctors alike. Zelena Greene.

He hated the woman to the very core of his being. Unlike Belle, he’d never seen her be genuinely nice to anyone. He often didn’t mind that in people, even appreciated it in some, but something about her just set him off. Her slimy behaviour towards him only served to infuriate him further. He’d been trying to get her fired since he met her, but he hadn’t succeeded so far. He highly suspected her of blackmailing her superior, dr. Hood.

He smirked, never one to let an opportunity to taunt others go. He’d reported her (again) a week ago, and Belle had informed him the board had given her quite a bit of trouble. He leaned the painting against the wall, sitting in a chair next to the open door. He’d at least let her finish dealing with her patient. A few years ago, he would have taken out a book while he waited. Today, however, reading had become impossible. Instead, he focused on Zelena’s conversation. 

“You think you’re so important, don’t you? Walking around like you won the damn lottery whenever he’s here. You think you own him? Is that it? You think he loves you?” Gold raised his eyebrows. Whoever was in there with her must have really pissed Zelena off. Even for her, this was cruel. “You’re nothing to him. You’re not special, so don’t get your hopes up. He’ll never want you. He’s mine, you hear me? Mine!”

Rumford froze as he heard Belle’s voice from inside the room. “Are you done? I’ve got work to do.” A pager went off, silencing Zelena as she started to speak. That had to be Belle being informed of his presence. “If you’ll excuse me.” Belle said calmly. She’d told him all about the aggressive patients she sometimes got, and again and again he’d admired her for staying calm. Zelena’s rant didn’t seem to faze her. 

There was a moment of silence, and he could picture Belle’s defiant stare easily. “Actually, you’re not going anywhere near him.”

Belle’s reaction told him he was right to be wary of Zelena’s tone. “What are you doing? Get off me!”

It took him less than a second to assess the situation, and one more to rush into the room. One look told him his worry had not been baseless. Zelena had Belle pinned to the wall, her hands dangerously close to the latter’s neck. A red haze filled Gold’s vision, and before he knew it, he had thrown Zelena to the ground. He swung his arm automatically, bringing his cane down hard. Zelena squirmed, but he hit her again, again, again until he felt a small hand on his arm, holding him back with surprising strength.

“Stop it, mr. Gold! Don’t hurt her! Mr. Gold!” He registered her yells, but couldn’t stop himself. She was going to hurt Belle. His Belle. Someone forced his hand to still, pulling his cane from him. Security, he realised. 

“Take Zelena, I’ll handle this.” Belle spoke, her voice indicating htere would be no discussion. He noticed nothing but her hands on his arms as she led him to a bed, prompting him to sit down. He didn’t look at her as she spoke.

“What’s wrong?” She asked gently.

“She was hurting you.” He replied quietly.

She shook her head, looking concerned. “Security would’ve arrived in time. What’s really wrong?”

“Nothing.” He said dismissively. “I’m fine.”

She was silent for a while, allowing him to amend his statement. She took his hand when he didn’t take the chance. “Rum, I’m here for you. And not just because it’s my job. You’re my friend.”

He sighed deeply. Something about her made him feel safe, and that worried him. “I’ll be blind soon.” He said, eyes full of tears. Bloody hell, what was he, a schoolgirl?

“I know.”

“I’ll never paint again.” He was skirting around the subject, and they both knew it. He was grateful for her silence, but it infuriated him too. It was hard enough convincing himself he didn’t need help, and she’d see right through him. 

As it was, he didn’t realise she was looking at him until her fingers found their way to his neck, gently roaming over the skin there. When he looked up, he found concern etched on her face. “Did you cut yourself shaving?” She asked gently.

He turned away from her before speaking. “Doesn’t everyone? Bloody razors are a nightmare.” The truth was that it had been getting harder and harder to shave each morning. He knew about the many cuts on his face and neck, but was terrified to admit to loss of another thing making him independent.

“Do you have anyone to help you at home?” Belle’s voice was kind, but her words cut deep.

“I don’t need help.” He said firmly.

“Rumford.” He could feel her warning glare burn into him.

She was right, as always. Ignoring the problem wouldn’t make it go away. “No one.” He said quietly. It was true. His song was long buried, and until Belle he hadn’t had any friends. 

“You should have told me. I can help, there’s resources-”

“I don’t want your bloody resources! I want my sight back! I want to be able to take care of myself!”

He immediately regretted shouting at her, and was on the verge of apologizing when he saw her smiling sadly at him. “There it is.”

Rumford let his head hang dejectedly. He dreaded his future, knowing that soon he wouldn’t be able to paint, cook, even go grocery shopping. He hated the thought of dependency. 

“You’re going to be fine.” Belle assured him. “I promise.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to promise that to a patient.” Gold said.

“I’m not.” She said simply. He looked puzzled. “I’m saying it to a friend.”

Before he could stop himself, he had thrown his arms around her. He hadn’t realised how badly he needed her. Almost ashamed, he loosened his grip, but she held on tightly. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, or when tears started falling from his eyes. Her arms were home and for a moment, he forgot why he was here. Then the shrill beeping of her pager ended that moment abruptly. 

She took one look at the thing and jumped up. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” She grabbed a pen out of her breast pocket and scribbled her number on the back of his hand. “Call me. I get off at seven.”

She was out the door before he could think. He’d have to leave the painting at the nurses’ station for her. He didn’t know exactly why, but something had changed between them. And he liked it.


End file.
